Some Friendly Advice
by PleasantlyInsanePerson
Summary: "Don't screw my son again." - Monroe struggles to come to terms with what he interrupted.


**Not related to my other story, 'Betrayal', needed a break from that, it was giving me a headache, didn't help that I've been pounding my head against every available hard surface every time I watch the new episodes of Revolution.**

**A quick one shot I wrote up in the early hours, so forgive me for any spelling mistakes.**

**PIP**

* * *

**Some Friendly Advice**

The image was ingrained in Bass's mind.

His son, Connor, and Charlie freakin' Matheson, together, naked as the days they were born, with nothing but tattered blankets barely covering the important parts.

He should have seen it coming, should've expected it, they were still young, still ruled by hormones, he didn't reckon either of them had managed to get laid in a while, it was only natural that they'd fancy a bit of a fumble, hell, he'd been the same, perhaps even worse, when he was their age!

But all the excuses and wishful thinking in the world couldn't put a dent in his anger. It was probably the first time he'd ever felt so furious at Charlie, what was worse was that he didn't even know why, he thought it might be to do with how Miles would react if and when he found out, but Miles had been pissed at him plenty of times and he had never really cared before.

No, something else was driving his rage. He'd felt similarly strong emotions whenever someone leered at her or even dared to threaten her with rape, but his anger had never been directed at her, until now.

He thought back to the night he rescued her from that seedy bar, knowing what those perverts had in mind made him sick, how dare they even consider doing that to _his _Charlotte. That was the first time he'd ever thought of her as his, but it was okay, Miles was his too, Connor not so much, that would take a little more time.

Anyone he cared about, needed to protect, wanted to keep close, were his. He needed the idea of responsibility over them, having a purpose that wasn't just to murder kept him somewhat sane.

The mere suggestion that Charlie might belong to someone else was not something he wanted to entertain, he needed to find her, talk to her, and settle things.

She had slipped away fairly quickly after being discovered to make herself decent, Bass had tried (not) very hard to avert his gaze as she strolled by, wrapped in that too-short blanket, her bare, creamy legs just didn't seem to end. He'd given himself a hell of a telling off for that, quickly realising that his inner monologue could be quite the dick when it wanted to be.

Either he was getting rusty or Charlie was finally getting better at hiding her tracks, it took him longer than expected to find her.

She was kneeling down next to a shallow stream, she had her back to him but that didn't make the view any less entrancing, she was bare from the waist up, her bra being tossed aside as she busied herself with washing her top in the water. In the pale moonlight, he watched as she ran damp hands across her back and shoulders, cleaning the day away.

Losing himself in the spectacle, he accidentally leaned too heavily against a branch, making it give way slightly with a mercifully quiet crack. Charlie heard it though, of course, and hurriedly dragged the soaking wet tank top over her torso, biting the inside of her cheek to stop from gasping at the sudden cold.

"Y'know, if you're going to spy on someone, you might wanna try at least a hint of stealth, it's kind of insulting, actually." She stood and angled her body towards the noise, an eyebrow cocked in disapproval and impatience.

Bass waited a moment, hoping she would think she'd imagined it, but revealed himself when she wouldn't stop staring, "It's alright, it's just me."

Not taking her eyes off him as he approached, Charlie scoffed, "Duh. You really think you'd still be alive if I didn't think it was you or Connor?" his eyebrows twitched into a brief frown at the mention of his kid as he remembered what had happened.

He struggled to keep his eyes up, the still dripping top was sticking to her skin, and she hadn't really had the chance to throw her bra on. It was very distracting. He cleared his throat, hoping actual words would come out and not some garbled crap, "I need to talk to you." Phew.

"'Bout time," she knelt back down and started scooping her things up, "You gonna go all fatherly on me and tell me how stupid I am?"

She looked up when he didn't answer right away, "I don't know," it was the truth, he'd lost all train of thought when her blue eyes reflected silver in the moonlight, he had momentarily forgotten what he'd even come over for, it was becoming increasingly obvious just why he was so upset with her, "Should I tell you that?"

"Well it's not like you really give a damn, so no."

That snapped him out of his wistfulness, "I always give a damn where you're concerned, Charlie. And I've proved it enough times too."

Rolling her eyes, she began to walk away, growling out an unintentional 'ouch' when he fiercely pulled her back by the arm and got up in her face, "Lemme give you a rare and friendly piece of advice, don't screw my son again, because once you start to care, one of you will die or he'll ditch you."

Charlie smirked knowingly but beneath her calm, cocky façade, the sadness in his eyes was making her chest tighten, he was obviously speaking from experience, "Well it's a good thing I don't care then," his eyes begged for an explanation, "Put it this way, your kid was a means of entertainment, I had an itch that he was all too happy to scratch, and he was damn good at it too." she allowed herself a moment of glee at his tortured expression.

Bass released her arm, wincing at the marks he'd left behind on her lightly tanned skin, "Why him? You couldn't go find yourself someone else?"

"What, like, you?"

He was sure he was blushing, he never blushed. Damn, what the hell was going on?! "You got plenty of offers back in town."

"Yeah, from a bunch of drunks that would happily land me with a disease! Besides, you really think I'm going to put myself in that position again?" There was no doubt, she was referring to that night in the bar, there was a weakness, a painful vulnerability in her eyes whenever she thought or talked about it, the anger surged back through his body, how dare they do this to her.

Seeing her fear made him feel even more protective of her, he wanted to hold her, comfort her, remind her that he would never let anything like that happen again. She'd probably slit his throat before he even got close but it was a tempting idea.

Building the walls back up, she sighed, seemingly bored with the dead end conversation, "We done?"

Bass's hesitation was aggravating, he was normally the quick one, spewing out snark and sarcasm at lightning speed. She walked away with a fed up huff, crashing through the trees and bushes in annoyance.

He stared down at the glimmering water, processing his thoughts delicately.

Considering the possibility that perhaps the reason he was so angry at Charlie was because his feelings for her had evolved in the time they'd spent together, had taken a step up from just caring, it would explain why he saw red when Connor had made a move, and a freakin' big move at that, and why he couldn't take his eyes off her, why she fascinated and devastated him at the same time.

So Connor had got into her pants, she had just made it pretty clear that it meant nothing, it wasn't going to change anything, so by rights, she was still his Charlotte.

He shook his head at the absurdity of it all, kicking a rock into the soft, glassy surface of the stream, he would lock those thoughts away in the deepest, darkest part of his mind, they could rot and fester there and eat away at him, along with all the other secrets he'd harboured in his life.

Whatever feelings he thought he had for Charlie were tucked away, frozen in his heart until the day she needed him, and she would need him, eventually. He would wait.


End file.
